


Moment of Truth

by potentiality_26



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, First Time, M/M, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2855684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiality_26/pseuds/potentiality_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“It’s not as if the queen and I wrote each other love letters.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“At this point, Aramis, I am putting nothing past you.”  As he watched Athos now, Aramis slowly realized that the look in the throne room had been an aberration. Athos was actually much, much angrier than he had let on then.</em>
</p><p>A confrontation following 'Musketeers Don't Die Easily.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moment of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> I’m just a posting demon right now. The explanation is that I tend to hoard finished fics, flailing around about how they could be better- but with the new season coming up I’m finally making myself post them.

Despite his words as they left the palace- and his generally genial manner on their way back to the garrison- Aramis knew that Athos was still angry. The look on his face in the throne room had promised dire retribution, and the longer it was put off the more anxious Aramis became.

Aramis trusted Athos with his life, but that didn’t mean that Athos didn’t occasionally scare him- and what with everything he’d been through of late it would be no surprise if Athos’ temper was running high.

Once they were home, Porthos proposed a trip to a tavern. Athos begged off, which- with him- meant that he intended to get drunk alone in his rooms instead. Once Athos was gone, Aramis made his own excuses and followed him. From the way Porthos’ eyes rested on his back as he left, Aramis knew his friend knew that something was going on but was willing to let them keep it to themselves for the time being.

Eventually, though, there would be trouble.

Aramis found Athos precisely where he’d expected to- sitting on his bed, cradling a bottle of wine and looking as mired in dark thoughts as Aramis had ever seen him. If Aramis had hoped that the conclusion of the matter with his wife- and wasn’t that a strange phrase to think, for he’d never guessed Athos might have been married at one time- would help Athos make his peace, that hope had evidently been premature. Athos eyed Aramis. “What are you doing here?”  

Aramis steeled himself. “It’s obvious that you have more to say to me. I thought I’d present myself for punishment.”

No amusement at the- admittedly weak- joke registered in Athos’ face. “Thoughtful,” he said flatly. “But unwise.”

“When have you known me to be wise?”

“Rarely.” Athos’ eyes did flash then, but Aramis couldn’t quite convince himself that it was with anything other than fury. “Please go.” His voice sounded oddly close to cracking. “I am exceedingly angry. I’m trying to sort out how much is justified and how much is not. Until I have done so, I believe it would best if you and I were not alone.”

Aramis tried and failed to untangle that. “I don’t understand,” he admitted at last.

One thing, at least, was clear to him: Athos had no desire to explain to remark. But, slowly, he did speak. “You have put yourself, and me, and most likely Porthos and d’Artagnan by association- to say nothing of the Queen- in a great deal of danger. She is reasonably safe from the Cardinal now, but should he find anything that could be construed as proof that this child is not the king’s…”

“It’s not as if the queen and I wrote each other love letters.”

“At this point, Aramis, I am putting nothing past you.” As he watched Athos now, Aramis slowly realized that the look in the throne room had been an aberration. Athos was actually much, much angrier than he had let on then.

“All right.” Aramis took a breath, shaken. “So. That’s the justified anger, I take it.”  

Athos nodded slowly.

“And the unjustified?” Aramis snorted. “It’s not as if you’re jealous.” Athos… stilled. There was no better way to describe it. Aramis stared at him. “You can’t be. After all the scolding for so much as looking at the queen-” admittedly most of that had been Porthos, but Aramis still felt the remark was warranted- “you can’t tell me you have feelings for her.”

“I do not.”

“Then I don’t understand. Ignoring the dangers for a moment, how is she different from any other woman?”

“Ignoring the dangers, she is not. If you think that your affairs have never… affected me before, you are a great deal less observant than you believe.”

“I know they have.” Aramis sighed. He sat down beside Athos and supposed it was something that his friend didn’t draw away. “I know you never approve. But this seems… personal.”

“It’s always a little personal. I’m just usually better at hiding it. From you. From myself.”

“Help me understand,” Aramis whispered, catching Athos’ eyes.

Athos sighed heavily. “You love too readily. And it would be so much easier to convince myself that I did not deserve your regard if you did not dispense it so casually on nearly everyone you met. I destroy everything I touch. I know that. But every time you come to me with your heart torn, looking for sympathy, all I can think is that I would look after you better than that. I would at least _try_ to be worthy.”

Aramis blinked at him.

Huffing out a silent almost-laugh, Athos leaned in and- a little clumsily- fixed his mouth over Aramis’. There was a moment when Aramis couldn’t move, merely trying to process that those were _Athos_ ’ lips on his took up all the attention he had. Finally one thought permeated the fog: that he must not let Athos read his shock as rejection. He grasped Athos’ face in both hands as tenderly as he could, hoping to at least stay Athos’ inevitable withdrawal, and opened his mouth. He tasted cheap wine and something metallic, like blood.    

_It would be so much easier to convince myself that I did not deserve your regard if you did not dispense it so casually on nearly everyone you met._

Oh God. Athos.

Athos seemed to eventually detect that Aramis wasn’t pushing him away, and when he did he groaned and gripped Aramis’ arms at the elbows almost hard enough to bruise and slammed Aramis’ back against the wall.

Aramis considered himself an excellent kisser, exceedingly capable of keeping his head and thinking as much about his partner’s pleasure as his own. At the moment, however, kissing Athos back seemed about as feasible as catching water in a sieve. He could do little more than thrust his fingers into Athos’ hair and hang on as his mouth was ravaged.

Around the time it occurred to Aramis that he would need air at some point in the near future, Athos withdrew. Aramis took a breath but didn’t- couldn’t- speak. Athos kissed him again, softly and with unbelievable tenderness, several times in quick succession.

He drew Aramis closer, arms winding around his back, and kissed him some more. He was much gentler now, but Aramis melted just as totally.

The next time he could think, they were horizontal on Athos’ bed and Athos’ fingers on were on Aramis’ shirt buttons. He was sucking on Aramis’ tongue, which made rational thoughts- especially if they involved stopping- very difficult to entertain, but it occurred to Aramis that talking this out before acting was the order of the day. It wasn’t Aramis’ usual style, but even he knew that making love with one of his closest friends before establishing what it _meant_ was not the best idea.

Aramis summoned his mental strength and gave Athos as firm a push as he could muster.

It worked. Indeed, if Aramis had ever seen a more complete withdrawal when he couldn’t call it to mind now. Athos’ face went blank- eerily so, even for Athos- and he huddled briefly on the foot of the bed before he apparently concluded that wasn’t far enough and moved to stand.

“Don’t,” Aramis managed, catching Athos’ wrist to keep him close by. “Please. I- I liked what we were doing.” This was possibly the greatest understatement he had ever uttered, but Aramis felt lucky to be making sentences at all. “I just- I don’t know what it is.”

Athos brow quirked faintly, so at least he wasn’t totally gone.

Aramis huffed out a laugh and kissed the twist of Athos’ mouth. “I know what _this_ is. But I never- ever- imagined _we_ might…”

Hurt flashed through Athos’ eyes before he buried it.

“Not because I never wanted you- I’ve wanted you since I’ve known you. Because I didn’t think you could ever want me.”

“How could I not want you?”

Athos looked so honestly baffled that it amazed Aramis. He didn’t lack confidence generally- quite the opposite- but when it came to Athos he’d always thought himself below such notice. It hadn’t troubled him- it had indeed barely registered, with so many other potential lovers who were not so aloof. And it was odd, was it not, that he had- without actively thinking about it- understood the Queen of France to be an easier prospect than Athos?

And that was another thing. Athos didn’t just want him. Athos noted it when he took lovers and was angry because he believed it to mean that Aramis preferred the company of a woman he could never touch again to that of his friend.

But what capacity could he have Athos?

“And is that what this is?” Aramis asked. “You wanting me?”

“This is me loving you, as I cannot believe you do not already know. As a comrade and a brother- and also in ways that are popularly frowned upon between brothers.” Ever the nobleman in such matters, Athos had of course found a way to make a rather deep confession fairly incomprehensible to Aramis’ kiss-drunk brain.  

When he worked out what exactly Athos had said to him, Aramis whined softly and tugged on Athos’ wrist until he could hold him again. When he kissed Athos he put all the awe he felt at being here- like this, with _him_ \- into it. Athos might not have understood exactly what Aramis was trying to say, but he did respond to it, and before long they were back where they’d left off.

He loved Athos’ weight on top of him, the caress of his mouth, and the slow drag of his hands over his body. Aramis didn’t quite know what had changed in Athos since they’d talked, but his touch seemed less urgent. In truth, though Aramis took considerable pride in his ability to hold himself back, the simple fact that this was Athos touching him made everything that much more intoxicating. He almost wished they were again fumbling to get each other’s clothes off, wished he had at least that much of an excuse for how close to the edge he was already.

Athos’ tongue stroked over his a final time before Athos turned his head and nuzzled Aramis’ chin. He tightened the fingers Aramis had half forgotten were running through his hair and pulled his head back, pressing burning kisses to his jaw and throat. Athos’ other hand slid down Aramis’ stomach and further. The flat of Athos' palm pressed against his groin and Aramis bucked helplessly against him, pleasure spiking through him like lightning.

He considered biting his lip and trying to hold back, but he doubted anything short of drawing blood would do the trick, and he wasn’t sure there was much reason not to spend in his trousers like a boy; Athos had overheard him in bedchamber often enough to know that he normally had very good control. It might say what he was currently unable to: that Athos wrecked him.

Athos’ fingers traced the line of Aramis’ cock through his trousers, the slow pressure almost unbearably sweet. Aramis moved against Athos’ hand, gasping, and when the time came he took hold of Athos’ face, turning it up to meet his gaze.

Aramis kept his eyes open as he came, wanting to fix the baffled adoration on Athos’ face in his mind for whatever lay ahead. One day that oddly innocent look of surprise might be amusing to him, but for time being it filled Aramis only with a degree of tenderness he’d rarely felt. To know that this commander he would follow anywhere, this friend he would die for, this lover who had brought him to such heights with so little, was so consistently amazed to have inspired any of those things affected Aramis in a way he couldn’t begin to articulate.

Athos nuzzled him again. “You are so lovely,” he whispered.

“So are you,” Aramis returned breathlessly.

Athos huffed out a soft laugh and Aramis clung to him even as Athos drew back far enough to raise a skeptical eyebrow.

Aramis’ orgasm had been a sharp thing, and it hadn’t left him boneless and lethargic but rather unusually focused. He had no intention of wasting that feeling. He flipped them, and saw a darkness in Athos’ eyes that suggested he didn’t mind Aramis taking charge one bit.

He unbuttoned Athos’ trousers and unlaced his smallclothes, freeing his cock.

Aramis admired it for a moment, encircling it lightly with his fingers, and then he bent- a slightly odd contortion from where he crouched at Athos’ side- and touched his tongue to the head. Athos sort of… winced, breathing, “You don’t have to-”

“Hush,” Aramis said, and repeated the maneuver. Athos made a soft noise and bit his lip, eyes tightly closed.

Making the executive decision that he wanted to be able to see Athos better, Aramis crawled toward the foot of the bed and repositioned himself between Athos’ legs. Aramis pulled Athos’ cock into his mouth and just held it there for a moment, reacquainting himself with the operation, how it felt to do this. Only then did he let himself remember who he was doing it for, and he looked up. Athos was making fists of the bedclothes and shaking faintly, likely trying to hold still. It had undoubtedly been a very long time since anyone had done this for him. Aramis happened to consider himself very talented in this area, but it probably wouldn’t take much skill- much _anything_ \- to bring Athos off.

Aramis pulled him deeper and sucked experimentally, tasting pre-come. The combination of the flavor- unpleasant yet oddly intoxicating- and the feel of Athos in his mouth drew a quiet moan from him. Aramis didn’t know if Athos heard it, felt it, or both, but his eyes snapped open and he looked at Aramis as if for the first time.

When their eyes locked, it was the most extraordinary thing.

Athos just stared at Aramis for a heartbeat, two, and then his eyes went unbearably tender. He looked honored, amazed, both terrified and happy- but beyond that, more love than Aramis had ever seen directed at him in his life was shining out of those eyes. For a moment, Aramis couldn’t breathe, so he just sucked again, tongue stroking the underside of Athos’ cock. But if Athos thought he was the only one affected by this he was very wrong.

Slowly, Athos unclenched one of his fists and raised a still shaking hand. “Can I-”

A little reluctantly, Aramis pulled off. “Yes.”

Reaching down, Athos didn’t go for Aramis’ hair right off- as Aramis had half expected him to do. He did brush away a few strands Aramis hadn’t noticed falling into his eyes out of them, and then he just lightly touched Aramis’ face, thumb sliding over his lower lip. Aramis gripped the base of Athos’ cock a little more firmly, and he could see the result of his touch in Athos’ eyes. He held them as he bent and took Athos into his mouth again. Athos looked both fascinated and overwhelmed, and it was clear that he kept his eyes open only through sheer force of will. Indeed, Athos remained utterly still but for the hand on Aramis’ face, which slipped back to cradle his head. He put hardly any pressure, just barely guiding as Aramis swallowed him deeper. Aramis backed off, sucked him lightly, and then swallowed him deep again.

Athos made a noise caught between a groan and a laugh. He stroked his fingers through Aramis’ hair. “I’m close,” he said.

Though he didn’t generally prefer to, Aramis found that he very much wanted to taste Athos’ come. He backed off until his mouth was wrapped only around the head and worked the base with his fist. Athos was gripping his bed-sheets so tightly his knuckles were white, but the hand on Aramis’ head lay perfectly flat and gentle. He worked his tongue against the slit and that was it- warm fluid shot into his mouth. Aramis swallowed rapidly- in this he was particularly out of practice- and still spilled some. Athos didn’t appear to mind that he was making a mess; he was looking at Aramis with eyes that were fairly black.

Aramis swallowed again, hard, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. At last Athos’ hand tightened in his hair, and Athos dragged him up to his level and kissed him breathless. Aramis found he felt pleasantly wrung out, and collapsed against Athos’ shoulder, sighing happily as he felt his friend’s arm go around him.

But Athos couldn’t just enjoy a moment- he didn’t have that in him- so of course had to go and say, “I don’t expect you to change.”

It took Aramis a moment to process that, and when he did his first instinct was to be offended. The suggestion that, after _this_ , he would go back to sleeping with just anyone hurt. But he reminded himself that Athos had said only that he didn’t expect him to change, which was actually another matter entirely.

The truth was that Aramis didn’t actually know how much was in his nature and how much was simply how he chose to behave- given that, he couldn’t very well expect Athos to know either. At the moment, the thought of touching anyone else made him feel ill. But he’d felt that way before, and he wouldn’t make great protestations of faithfulness to this man he respected above all others when- in a month or a year- he might find his heart wandering again. Of course, it was also possible that he never would- could Athos really blame him for wanting to hold on to that possibility?

In a few hours, he and Athos would likely be back to bickering and misunderstanding each other, as they invariably did without Porthos there to mediate- but for now Aramis would take Athos’ words as they were meant: a promise that wherever his heart took him, he wouldn’t have to lose this.

“Thank you,” he said at last.

Athos made a faintly relieved sound and added, “I’d just like to think that you will be a bit more… careful, knowing how you are loved.”

Aramis knew Athos meant in who he had liaisons with, if he had to have them at all- but he couldn’t help thinking that this statement was rather funny coming from Athos, who was even more careless in his way and much harder to make believe he was loved. Aramis knew he’d never manage such a thing overnight.

But he still said, “You know, you were wrong before. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve-”

Athos cut him off with a kiss and Aramis- intent on proving that his reputation wasn’t entirely unwarranted- let Athos change the subject. He made the promise to himself all the same. He would try to deserve this.      

**Author's Note:**

> Come and visit me on [tumblr](http://potentiality-26.tumblr.com/) if you wish.


End file.
